


When Death Calls You Master

by karameiwaku



Series: The Fear of Death [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, EWE, Gen, Magical Bond, Master of Death, Master of Death Harry Potter, Master of Death Tom Riddle, Master/Slave, Poor Life Choices, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slave Tom Riddle, after the Final Battle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28331187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karameiwaku/pseuds/karameiwaku
Summary: When Harry realized that he had become the Master of Death, by returning from Limbo to defeat Voldemort, the last thing he wanted was a minion. All he wanted was for the war to be over, the inevitable funerals to be over, and life to go on. The day was not even over when Death showed up and turned his life upside down.
Series: The Fear of Death [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074095
Comments: 15
Kudos: 92





	1. The Master of Death

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own this playground or anything recognizable.

In the aftermath of the final battle, two figures appeared next to Harry in the middle of the Great Hall.

"Master." The hall silenced as the whispery voice rippled to every corner. From several directions throughout the hushed hall, half a dozen patroni raced towards the hooded figure, the most prominent among them an enormous bear. Death ignored them.

"Neville, call them off. Not a dementor."

The patroni faded. Harry turned to his visitor.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon. I wouldn't think you'd want to seek me out. It might be best if we just ignore each other."

"I agree, Master, but in this I could not stay away. A very small part of this one was joined with you when you became my Master, and shares in some of your power. I had to offer him a boon but tried to find one that would not undo your work. I granted him the choice of staying with me or you. It seems he fears you less, and so I bound him into your service."

Harry only just noticed the dark haired youth crouching next to Death. "No! I don't want a slave."

"I cannot take him, nor take back an agreement with my Master."

"I did not agree to this."

"He did."

"You didn't ask me and he doesn't speak for me. How can you even have two Masters?"

"By his foolish use of forbidden magic. His mastery is incomplete. This has never happened with anyone else."

"I should hope not. Take him back."

"I cannot, until he dies again."

"One must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives..."

Tom Riddle recognized the pattern of prophecy, and knew this for a portion of theirs that he hadn't heard before he died. He shook his head slowly in horror. 

"Correct. I didn't kill you as a baby nor here at school today. You died by your own hand both times and so these words still stand between us. Should I kill you now? I do wish to survive this war. Until you two showed up, I thought I had."

Riddle shook his head again.

"He will not speak until I leave. Last time he didn't speak at all."

"Last time?"

"Last time. Fifty eight years ago we stood here exactly as we are now. Instead of allowing him to stay with you, you sent him back to his fourteenth year, Master, at the risk of your own existence in the new timeline. He didn't learn from his mistakes and the Warren girl died three months sooner." Death had been surprised that its Master had learned so much about his position in that timeline, and was more thorough in its efforts to destroy any records of the Hallows since its Master so kindly granted it another opportunity. 

"Did anything else change?"

"Neither new births nor unbirths, so no souls in paradox. Some lived longer or died sooner, but none by much." Much, of course, being relative to Death's eternity.

"What other options do I have?"

Death was mildly impressed with the question but had no intentions of answering something so penetrating since its Master hadn't actually ordered it to. "Perhaps the Oracular Hallows could grant you insight."

Harry scowled. "Prophecy has never done me any favors. Why should I take him? He's your problem now. I solved mine already."

"I could return more of them to you, all who died in this place on this day."

Harry's heart skipped a beat at the rows of fallen heroes, too many of them friends, laid out along the walls. "What's in that for you?"

Another excellent question. This Master was proving to be far too aware for Death's liking. "Ease. I haven't yet gathered them."

Harry shook his head. "If I accept him, if he gets to survive this war, then they all do. I want everyone back."

"The farthest I may go back is to your mastery of the third Hallow."

Harry nodded sadly. That excluded Sirius, and Cedric, and even Professor Dumbledore. "Then do it. Bring all of them here." After a quick thought, he added, "and stable."

"So mote it be." Before its Master could change his mind, Death pointed to each of the corpses lined up against the walls, and they began groaning and moving. Still others appeared sitting or laying throughout the hall, dozens upon dozens, including goblins, several other nonhumans, and many muggles by the looks of their attire. Pandemonium briefly reigned as family members greeted their revived loved ones, and then another battle almost broke out between factions. Had any of the Newly Returned access to their magic, everyone in the Great Hall might have immediately died again.

"I must go now. They are all bound into your service."

"That's not what I meant!"

But Death was already gone.


	2. Reunions

Harry moved to a vacant corner at the back of the Hall. He raised his hand and waved. "I need for those who are bound to me to come over here." After a chaotic moment, he added, "Quietly."

The first to arrive simply popped in just in front of Harry.

"Dobby!" Harry cried out happily.

"Dobby is not being a free elf," the little house elf replied, twisting his left ear.

"I don't know how the magic works for the others, but you I can certainly help." Harry transfigured a rock shard into a woolen cap and tossed it to the elf. Immediately, Dobby sprang into Harry's arms and hugged him tightly.

"Dobby is always being Harry Potter's free elf!"

"Dobby, I need parchment, ink and quills for everyone," Harry said when he could finally breathe again. "Will you accept the same terms as your contract here?" Harry would find out what they were later.

Nodding solemnly, the elf snapped his fingers, summoning a long table with large stacks of parchment, a tray of ink bottles, and several cups holding quills. With a second snap, he conjured a comfortable chair for Harry.

"Write your name at the top. If you had any conversations with anyone before you woke up here, please write as much of it as you remember. Thank you."

Almost three hundred people formed a queue and gathered writing supplies. None seemed surprised at the instructions. Harry wondered just how much Death may have said to anyone. First things first, though, they all needed somewhere to sit.

"Err... Who's currently headmaster?"

"Professor McGonagall." The raspy voice came from the end of the line.

Harry winced. "I'm very sorry, Professor. This is rather awkward, and I'm not half sure but it might actually be my fault. No, I take that back. Definitely awkward, but blame him instead." Harry pointed to the former dark lord who was once again kneeling stiffly at his feet. "Professor McGonagall carries the wards?"

Professor Snape nodded without moving his scarred neck, bending his upper back instead.

"Thank you. Do you have any potions in your supply for wound care, scar care and anything else that might help here?" 

Professor Snape nodded again in that same awkward way, "unless Madam Pomfrey has already claimed it."

"She may not have had time to go looking. Please check and bring back anything useful."

As the professor swept away, Harry glanced down at the nuisance that had already almost tripped him up by being underfoot. The others all seemed much more laid back; apparently the binding on this one was not the same as the rest of them. He dropped parchment, ink and a quill on the floor. "Stay. Just stay there and write your memory. I want the long version of everything."

Harry found Professor McGonagall by the dais at the head of the hall and asked for the regular tables to be set out, since the hall was no longer needed for medical support. Then he sorted those bound to him so that attackers and defenders were seated as far apart as they could be, and it made a certain sort of sense to assign them to the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables respectively, with muggles and bystanders at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables in between. When Professor Snape returned, Harry had him apply the scar cream first to his own neck and then treat others who wanted it.

Harry finally settled himself at Dobby's table in the back of the hall, in hopes of trying to forget about all of this for a moment. Kingsley wouldn't let him.

"You'll need to hurry if you want to keep this from getting into the Prophet."

"That's still possible?"

"No one has had time to go anywhere. Catch everyone present with a vow of silence."

Harry slid parchment and quill to him and gathered supplies for himself as well. "Write up something reasonable? You'll swear to it first."

"Certainly. What are you drafting?"

"I'm following my own orders, Kings. I died too. I just woke up the quickest."

Kingsley just looked at him, an enigmatic mixture of confusion and sorrow. Harry merely resumed writing out his discussion with Professor Dumbledore in the desolate train station. After a few minutes, they both looked up from their parchments.

"Kings, what am I supposed to do about all of this?" Harry nudged a kneeling Tom Riddle with the toe of his trainer. The slave looked up, but returned to his writing when Harry shook his head.

"Register his new status at the ministry. That goes for all of them, though I don't know what you'll do with the muggles."

"This is legal?"

"There are no laws against it, but it fell out of custom a century or so ago."

"It's against muggle law, at least. Ask Hermione, she'll know."

As though summoned, Hermione entered the Great Hall tugging Ron with her, an expression of disbelief on his face until he saw the twins sitting together at the Gryffindor table. He beelined directly for his brothers, and Hermione joined Harry and Kingsley.

"Slaves? What were you thinking?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Harry spluttered. "It's not my fault!"

"It might actually be for the best, in any case," Kingsley said. "It'll certainly cut down on the trials, since we can't prosecute property. I may recommend all marked Death Eaters also be given to you."

"Why?" Harry cried. "Why would you do such a thing to me?"

"Four hundred isn't much worse than three hundred, and it's already been done to you by a greater authority than me."

"I thought you were my friend."

"I am. But I'm also a ministry minion, and this will spare me a lot of work."

"Just for that, I charge you with overseeing the obliviation of all the muggles and reintroducing them back into their world."

"Friendship is such a two-way street."

"Isn't it? Do you have that draft for me?"

Kingsley passed Harry the parchment, which Harry skimmed and passed on to Hermione. "Do you see anything worth editing?"

Hermione read it over and shook her head.

"Great. I'll need both of you to bind for each other. Hermione, if you'll work with me on everyone else, Kings can get started sorting out the muggles. Kings, I could understand all of them. Death granted me that. But I believe some spoke French, German and Russian, if you'll need translators."

"I'll manage."

Kingsley and Hermione were soon oathbound, and Kingsley moved off to the muggle table. Hermione looked around the Great Hall thoughtfully for a moment. She transfigured a bit of rubble into a clipboard, grabbed fresh parchment, and wrote down both their names. Looking at her with clipboard and ever-filling quill in hand, Harry actually laughed.

"Don't ever change, Mione. Not one bit."


	3. Oaths and Advice

Hermione followed Harry as he circled around the Great Hall, oathbinding everyone present who wasn't already bound to him. He finished his tour with the Malfoys. They were seated on the floor not far from the main entrance. 

"I require an oath. I request advice." Harry passed the terms of the vow to Lucius who held it so all three could read it. 

"It's fair," Lucius said, "but none of us have a wand. Mine was borrowed a year ago." He sent a sharp look to the Dark Lord still kneeling where Harry had left him.

"Mine was also borrowed a couple months ago," Draco said, quirking an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry winced. "Right. Hawthorne. Lovely wand, it's been fantastic. And yes, I still have it. Somewhere. Sorry, I'll have to find it."

"As was mine," Narcissa said, glancing at her son.

"I was disarmed before retreating," Draco said sheepishly. "It may still be out there."

While the elder Malfoys smirked at their son, Harry nodded and went outside.

"Accio fallen wands!" Over the next few minutes, far more wands flew at Harry than he was expecting, pelting his chest and clattering to the ground. He knew some of them had struck hard enough to bruise. He gathered them all up and went back inside.

Narcissa plucked her wand from the pile with relief, but Lucius shook his head. Harry spotted a familiar yew wand and tucked it in his back pocket.

"We should all be able to use mine for an oathtaking," Narcissa said. Draco nodded quickly since he'd been using it for several weeks already. Lucius held the wand for a moment before nodding as well.

Harry agreed to this solution and Hermione stepped up as binder. Once their vows were completed and Hermione added their names to her list, Harry had them sit back to back, each facing away from each other as the points of a triangle. 

"I'd like each of you to answer one question without consulting each other so I can get three opinions. Kingsley looked at what Death saddled me with and wants to convince the Ministry to toss Death Eaters into the same pile rather than deal with drawn out trials and messy paperwork. Given a choice, would you rather take your chances with aurors and trials, or with me? One finger for trials, two for me."

All three Malfoys promptly set out two fingers.

Harry snarled as he turned to Hermione. "That was not the answer I was looking for."

Draco spoke up. "Potter, you're Gryffindor and we're Slytherins. You will never understand the choice, but every one of us would choose the same, because you are who you are and avoiding the Ministry's hospitality is worth a lot worse."

"You're right, Malfoy. I will never understand. I've been a slave, and I'd choose Death before going back. It wouldn't matter who the master is."

Draco seemed surprised at Harry's vehemence, until his eyes widened absurdly as he looked over Harry's shoulder. Harry spun around, his holly wand in hand, to find Death standing nearby. 

"Did you summon me, Master?"

"Can I kill you yet?"

"Not unless you wish to be bound into this role."

"I don't wish to be bound at all, nor have others bound to me."

"Even me, Master?"

"I never sought your Hallows."

"And yet all of them found you."

"And you blame me for this?"

"No, I do not."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Let go of my Hallows."

Harry immediately tensed up. "I... find that I cannot do this."

"Then we will remain as we are."

"Perhaps we should ignore each other."

"As you wish, Master." And Death disappeared again.

Harry turned to Hermione again. "If I ignore the rest of them, will they go away too?"

"Harry!"

"Mione, I'll bet you a galleon that the wizard laws on slavery are hopelessly out of date."

"I won't take that bet."

"What about muggle laws?"

"Illegal in most areas."

Harry nodded and gestured to the Ravenclaw table full of bystanders. "I'm sending all of the muggles back. What about treatment of criminals or prisoners of war? I don't think there's any laws like that here."

Hermione looked excited about something. "What do you know about the Geneva Conventions?"

"I think I've heard that word before."

Her grin made him somewhat nervous. "Let me get you a book next time I'm in London."

Of course. "Can you summarize for me until then?" And maybe he'll figure out a way to dodge that bullet before then. It's possible she might forget.

As she ventured into lecture mode, Harry rubbed his temples and let his eyes glaze over. He had enough fairly quickly. "Too much! Too much!" he groaned. "Make me an outline?"

She cheerfully did just that, scribbling down half a foot of essay before even having to pause to think of what she wanted to write next. Harry read her neat handwriting upside down. "Humanitarian treatment? Human dignity? What is all this?"

"It's a summary of what the Geneva Conventions are all about."

Harry rapped on the clipboard, almost knocking it out of her hand. "That is a clipboard. What is quality of life?"

She rambled on trying to explain the concept.

"Hermione, I know you went to muggle primary school. You know what action verbs and concrete nouns are. That's the list I want. Just the rules, none of this abstract stuff. I don't have time for philosophy."

"Or the patience," she muttered under her breath.

Harry chose to ignore her.


	4. When All Else Fails

Lucius felt relief flooding through him and let it pass by without altering his expression. He shifted positions until the wall was at his back, encouraging his wife and son to join him. Narcissa slid her arm through his, the only comforting touch permitted in public. If all three of them sat with their legs criss-crossed close enough together that their knees touched, Lucius wasn't going to say a word about it. For the moment they were still together. As long as they had each other, they could figure out something to do.

They listened as the Gryffindors discussed various ways muggles handled prisoners. Lucius carefully noted Potter's horrified expression as Granger ranted on about 'awful conditions' that far exceeded anything a wizard could expect in Azkaban. He barely suppressed a shiver at his own memories of the prison. And since Lucius expected to be sent back, if not outright kissed, any option that reduced this probability was worth at least exploring, and pursuing if nothing better came up.

He glanced to his family seated on either side. Draco might have better chances given his youth and fewer crimes, but could still suffer for their name alone. The ministry would want to destroy any Malfoy they could get their hands on for the publicity if nothing else. Narcissa had the most options. Unmarked, she could fall back to the house of her birth and possibly take Draco with her. Lucius didn't want to lose his heir, but if his house was going to fall, he would let his son go and shoulder this collapse on his own.

But if there was another way, if his line could carry on, there was almost nothing he wouldn't do to pursue such a goal. Better to be the lord who passed on the house with less than he received it than the lord who lost everything. But to have any chance at all, he had to stay alive and out of Azkaban. To do that, he either had to be acquitted in a trial, or take the offer Potter wasn't yet willing to give, or hope something better came along sooner rather than later. This situation, more deeply than any other, tested his resolve and his understanding of what it means to be Slytherin.

Above all else, Slytherins survived. Slytherins adapted to necessity. Slytherins made the best of any circumstances and thrived on adversity. Slytherins valued family first, house unity second, and anything after that could be sacrificed as needed. That included his freedom, which he never truly had, his pride, which would not be lost if enough others followed his lead, and even his name, which would hurt more than anything but if his family could only go on without him would be worth it. Slytherins always found a way to succeed. 

He could do this. All he needed to do was convince Potter that slavery was the best course of action. And for that, he had to get the advisor in his court even if she was a mudbl... muggleborn. Draco mentioned something about Potter not liking that other word. He could adjust to vocabulary restrictions. Merlin knew he'd adjusted to far worse. Perhaps this master would be more easily pleased than his last one. If so, he would spend the rest of his life ensuring Potter maintained such naively high ethics and standards.

Despite their past and everything that happened within his own manor, he had to gain the trust of the Golden Trio. It shouldn't be too difficult. Gryffindors were always easy enough to manage.

\---

As Harry and Hermione walked back up to the head of the hall, Harry pondered the bundle of wands he'd tucked inside his jacket. Should he pass these out or collect the ones his bound still had on them? Either option had its drawbacks, but he knew how much it hurt every summer to have his own wand locked away. Even without access to their magic, they would at least want to carry their wands. He briefly considered returning only the defenders' wands, but quickly realized he could not begin by treating any group differently than the others. Hermione broke into his gloomy thoughts before he could think of other options.

"What are you going to do about the death eaters, Harry?"

"I honestly don't know. Would the ministry even give them to me?"

"I don't think so, no matter what Kingsley says. It's really too much for one person, and the way the Prophet hates on you so often, at any time the Man-Who-Won could be rewritten as the Next-Big-Threat."

"The Next Dark Lord, you mean?"

Hermione nodded. "They've been awful to you just about every year."

"If I really want them to hate me, I could run for minister."

"You'd get elected in the popularity contest, but you'd hate the job. You're not cut out for all that paperwork."

"No, I'm not. And I never wanted to go into politics."

"So go be an auror."

"I don't know if I want that either. That's what everyone else wanted for me. All I wanted was to survive, and now that I have, I don't know what to do. I never really expected to get this far."

"Well, you could take your last year of school and see how you do on your NEWTS."

"Finish school where? There's so much damage that needs to be repaired. I don't know if it'll be done by September. Or what the students will do for the rest of this year. The fifth and seventh years will probably have to go test at the ministry offices. Hopefully Professor McGonagall will get that set up soon. She's headmistress now, and I'm sure she's swamped."

Hermione nodded sadly.

"You, me and Ron have missed too much. If we do anything at all, it'll be self study or next year. A lot depends on the rebuilding." Harry looked over at the tables. "I may be able to help with that, the labor at least, if expertise is hired in."

"You'd trust them for that?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm not going to let them sit around and do nothing. It'll give me a chance to see what my bond actually does, and I'm too aggravated with D... the creator of that bond to ask directly. I want Hogwarts fixed as quickly as possible. She's my home, Mione. I don't know where I'd be without her."

Hermione reached over and gave him a one-armed hug.

"Mione, what am I going to do about the death eaters?"

"I don't know, Harry. I don't think there's much of anything that you can do."

"I can't allow them to be treated worse than the others just because they survived."

"I know, Harry. I know."


	5. Turning the Tables

With a vague idea of something that could be done with a fair amount of wizarding power, Harry looked over at the tables, studying the different groups of people there and trying to guess who might be skilled at what. He probably needed to get everyone to write up their curricula vitae, but that would only create even more paperwork for him to review. But how else would he be able to get to know everyone and what they could do?

Many of these people had lives and jobs that wouldn't even be disrupted by their brief brushes with their own mortality. Those who fell defending the school these two days hadn't even been declared dead before waking back up. Only those with magical transitions, such as the school wards, faced any changes at all. The others died over the past several weeks. Some deaths were witnessed and documented. For others, like some of the Knockturn Alley residents, their deaths went largely unnoticed, listed as 'missing' if anything was filed at all. 

For others, their deaths were reported, possibly mentioned in the Daily Prophet or announced over the wizarding wireless, and filed with the Ministry. They would need to be reclassified as alive before they could be declared property. As much as Harry was glad that his friends and allies were alive, he dreaded all of the paperwork. On impulse, he glanced back at Tom Riddle, still bent over the parchment on the floor, writing out his memories. Riddle deserved to do it, especially for the Slytherins. He should write out all of the forms that officially labeled himself and those who died for him as property rather than people, and see just how his rule impacted his own house. Harry would do the rest himself. He owed it to those who defended him, to acknowledge that it changed all of them forever.

Far more students than Harry wanted to think about sat at his tables as well. No house was exempt. Ravenclaws and Hufflepluffs and Gryffindors alike sat together at the defenders' table, united by something far more serious than school politics. All of them were proud members of the DA who'd chosen not to evacuate, and they'd followed Harry to death and back. He only hoped they didn't regret it once he figured out how to minimize the impact the bond would have on their lives. A few Slytherins sat the table on the other side of the room, two of them right next to their parents. Almost as difficult to consider were the recent graduates. He'd watched over a dozen at his tables get their diplomas. Recently graduated Slytherins were heavily recruited for snatchers and took severe losses early in the fight.

Several teachers had fallen as well. Professor Vector paid the price for trying to shield several students, who had died as well. Professor Firenze, too, took a fatal curse and bled out, though he sat with the nonhumans and bystanders at the next table over instead. At the end of the table, Professor Snape sat by himself. Several feet separated him from the other defenders, who largely did their best to avoid looking his way. As in life, as in death, he was familiar with both sides yet accepted by neither.

"Professor, I may have need of polyjuice. Would you have any already prepared?"

Snape nodded awkwardly and swept away.

"Professor."

The wizard stopped and turned around to face Harry.

"Also a pain potion. Thank you."

Snape turned sharply and left quickly.

Harry looked over at the aurors sitting amid the table of muggles. Kingsley had gathered up their parchments into a stack, and several groups were ready for departure, just waiting for Harry to confirm that they could leave. While Harry was looking them over, Snape returned with two vials in hand. Harry accepted them both, examined them, and immediately handed one back, pocketing the other.

"Take this."

Snape glowered for a long moment before reluctantly complying. Harry ignored him and finished reading the stack. None of the memories said anything important. Most of them told of final moments before dying rather than any conversation while dead. Only three recounted a pale, washed out place, and Harry guessed those might have been written by squibs. Even those had very few details, portrayed more dreamlike than experience.

He went over to Kingsley who reintroduced him to the muggles as the senior doctor who would evaluate them for discharge. How anyone believed this of a rumpled, ragged youth, Harry hadn't a clue but just went along with it. The muggles readily allowed him to look into their eyes and to palm their foreheads for temperature. While doing so, he focused within himself at a magical sensation he came to realize was a cluster of bonds, threads linked to his core. Somehow, he knew which thread was whose. The ones he sought were the faintest wisps connecting him to these nonmagical people. For most, he noted their lack of magical cores and the very limited nature of their bonds to him. About one in ten possessed the empty core that marked squibs, more than he expected, but as all were long past any magical development, he left them with the others. 

When he signaled to Kingsley that they were cleared to leave, Hermione double checked that the aurors going with them were all on her list, and then dragged Harry out to the hospital wing to take oaths from everyone there.

George Weasley ran out after them and caught up to them in the corridor about half way there.

"Please, Harry!"

Hermione checked her list and nodded. He was already on it.

"Thank you for whatever you did to bring Fred back. I just..." George said, dropping to the floor, clutching at Harry's knees and looking up. "Don't keep us separated. You already have him. Take me too. You know I'd do anything for you." 

Harry blinked several times before he found his voice again. "Tell me what's wrong, George. There might be other answers."

"It's like we're not twins anymore. We can't hear each other." George began crying. "He says all he can hear is you but you're not saying anything to him. Please just bring us together again, whatever it takes."

"I'm still trying to figure out what's going on. Give me time to sort out how to free him before you ask this of me?"

George nodded miserably and Harry wondered if there was anything he could do. If he couldn't say no to George, could he really turn away anyone else?


	6. The Ones In Between

The Hospital Wing proved to be its own nightmare. Even with as much time as Harry had spent in these rooms over the years, he'd never experienced the level of despair that pervaded the suite. Drapes were drawn around all of the beds for privacy, and magical beeps and whistles kept a running appraisal of the occupants within. Madam Pompfrey rushed back and forth from one bed to another. Harry didn't recognize the others helping her and guessed they came from St. Mungos.

None of the healers had time for any shenanigans and rudely brushed off Hermione's insistence. Many of the patients were far too injured to swear a vow. Frankly, nobody there cared about secrecy, not when so focused on treatments, when any interruption in care could cost someone's life. Harry pulled Hermione out of the wing and set an alarm ward over the door so he would know when someone left the wing. He could use the marauder's map to see who and track them down for the oath.

Harry paused for a moment just outside the door. He hadn't wanted to do this within, to avoid causing a panic in the sick ward.

"Death."

The entity appeared promptly, standing rigidly with its scythe in a two-handed grip. "Master."

"Everyone within is included."

"They were not mine at the time of our deal."

Harry scowled. "I don't care. The words between us were 'if he survives, then they all do'. That means all of them."

Death's grip tightened on its scythe. "If you insist, Master."

"I do. Those who recover on their own will go on as they are, but those who find their way to you come back to me." 

Harry could tell Death was irritated. 

"You don't ignore me very well, Master."

"I'll be better at it after today."

"Please try your best."

"I will. I'm sure you're busy."

Once Death vanished, Hermione peeled herself out of an alcove in the corridor and breathed deeply several times.

"Harry, I swear, I will never get used to that."

"Death isn't so terrifying. I'm sure we'll get along."

"Only you, Harry."

"Isn't that how it always is?"

Hermione snorted. They returned to the Great Hall. Harry gave Hermione the map so she could write down the names of everyone throughout the school. That way all she would need do is tick them off as they swore the oath. While she was busy with that, he pulled out the bundle of wands he'd gathered from the battlefield. 

Harry began with the defenders at the Gryffindor table, walking along and repeating three questions. "Do you have your wand? Do you have any other wands? Do any of these belong to you?" Given that the defenders were more inclined towards incapacitation rather than annihilation, his pile was larger at the foot of the table than at the head where he'd begun.

As he progressed along the Slytherin table, he struggled to keep his composure around certain people he was especially furious with. In his haste to reclaim Remus and Tonks from Death, he'd overlooked that Bellatrix and Peter would revive as well. To his relief, she didn't antagonize him, and he wondered if that was part of the bond. He focused very hard on the wands in his hands and kept moving, though he did note the lessened tension among the former death eaters. Despite not having access to their magic, they seemed relieved to at least recover their wands. When he got to the head of the table, Harry reassessed his wand count. Some wands were still missing, and a large handful remained unclaimed. 

"Kings, do you have a moment?"

"Sure Harry."

"Were any death eaters taken in by the aurors?"

"Some. I don't know who. Not many, we were a bit busy. Most of the survivors escaped."

"I may have their wands. Some of these likely belong to those in the hospital wing, too. Please send word not to break any wand they may have carried. Apparently there was a lot of disarming and field gleaning, and I wouldn't want someone else's wand snapped just because it's the one they had on them at the wrong time."

"I'll send that over. You could step out to Ollivander to see if he recognizes the ones you have."

"That's a good idea. I'll stop by the Ministry for the ones the aurors picked up today, and put name tags on those as well. Later though. That will have to wait until I've spoken to everyone."

Harry looked at the tables. The muggles were trickling away group by group leaving only small clusters of muggleborns, but the hall was full of magical beings who would be bound to him for the rest of their lives. The muggles, too, were linked by the flimsiest wisps that he could feel stretch out as they moved away. Some of the nonhumans might have means of gaining their freedom, as Dobby did, but Harry knew he, himself, would never be unbound. His tie to Death was eternal, and many of the humans would not be permitted freedom even if a method was found. No one would accept the freedom of former death eaters. 

He thought again about the curricula vitae. He needed to have the information and it would at least keep them busy for a few minutes. They all still had quills and ink, so he sent stacks of parchment up the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables, with each person taking some and passing the rest along. Conjuring a large writing board, he wrote out a quick list of basic details.

Full name  
Titles, if any  
Date of birth  
Close family ties  
Profession  
OWLS  
NEWTS  
Masteries  
Other qualifications  
Other training or expertise  
Other skills and talents

It really wasn't a long list, but Harry had no idea what else to add to it. If anything, he was proving just how little he knew about the magical society that looked to him for so many answers. He didn't even know the right questions to ask. He added 'miscellaneous' to the end of the list, just to cover all the gaps. He looked over at the wizards and witches dutifully writing, who he was now responsible for. Many of them were formerly among the ruling elite, or maybe they still were, he wasn't sure. Harry had no idea what to do, and shoved all those thoughts aside before they could overwhelm him.

As much to keep himself busy as to continue digging through all of this mess, he went to the Hufflepuff table to invite the first group of nonhumans to speak with him. The largest cluster were the goblins, so he approached them first. Before he reached them, though, the main doors opened and a loud cluster of people came in.

The reporters had arrived. Harry grimaced, somewhat surprised that it took them this long.


	7. Nosey Busybodies

Silence fell across the Great Hall as the reporters came in, clustering by the door.

"Please stay there," Headmistress McGonagall called over to them. "There's too much debris everywhere. Someone will be with you in a moment."

"Professor, I can take their questions." Harry knew that was probably the only way to keep them from wandering all over the school. The frazzled headmistress nodded her thanks, relieved at Harry's offer. The reporters looked excited. Harry Potter didn't give interviews very often.

Hermione quickly flipped to a fresh sheet of parchment and wrote all the reporters' names down, scowling at one in particular. She tucked the map into her pocket and headed over to Harry, reaching him just as he summoned Dobby.

"Dobby, could you move that table and chair to the corner and set up chairs in an arch facing the wall?" Glancing over at the area, he realized Tom still sat on the floor, writing out his memories. Harry cast a silent notice-me-not on the former dark lord. Tom Riddle on the front page was a nightmare he did not need right now. 

"Dobby is happy to set up speaking area for Harry Potter! Is Harry Potter wanting a better chair?"

"No, I'll just stand."

"Platform? Podium?" The little elf bounced with each suggestion.

"No, just the chairs for the reporters will be fine. Then pop over to Tom and quietly tell him I'd like him to move to the chair."

Dobby snapped twice and turned to Harry with a gleeful grin. On the third snap, Harry felt magic flutter from head to toe, and his clothes were much cleaner and less wrinkled. Hermione snickered as the little free elf disappeared.

"Even elf magic can't do anything about your hair."

Harry just rolled his eyes. He regained his seriousness when Hermione showed him the list, pointing at Skeeter's name.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the reporters. "Is she going to behave?"

"I doubt it. Do you see her?"

They both looked at the cluster of reporters for a quick moment, and shook their heads. Harry noted that Tom interpreted "to the chair" as on floor next to it. Fortunately, or possibly an attempt to follow the spirit of the order, Tom chose the far side of it and was somewhat out of sight. Harry renewed the notice-me-not.

"Mione, could you transfigure a mason jar? Charmed impervious, please."

She grinned, then grabbed an extra quill and after a moment handed Harry his jar. He silently cast a summoning charm and several beetles flew at him. He caught all of them in the jar and looked closely. An all-too familiar one jumped around angrily. The others seemed like normal insects, and Harry left them in there. He could toss them out to the gardens later when Skeeter's escape was no longer a risk. Grinning back to Hermione, he passed her the jar, pointing at her favorite beaded bag.

Hermione nodded and tucked it away. They gathered the journalists and moved all of them to the chairs Dobby had set up for them. One by one, Hermione called their names and showed them the terms of the vow. 

"Limus Filhous?"

The ancient journalist looked over the vow and his eyes widened. He looked at Harry in shock as he pulled out his wand. Oathbound, he returned to his seat, still quite pale and shaken. The others seemed extremely curious about his reaction, but he tried to ignore their whispered questions until he finally gave up and snapped back.

"I just took a bloody vow not to discuss it. If you want to know what's going on, wait your turn and take it yourself. Merlin! You fools!"

"Betty Braithwaite?"

Driven by her curiosity, the young reporter jumped out of her chair and dashed over to Hermione, reaching for the clipboard. She read over the vow and frowned in confusion, looking at Harry. "Is this from..." When he nodded, her eyes widened and she almost dropped the clipboard. "Morgana! When we are allowed to write about this, will you call the same group of us back in?" She pointed to herself and the colleagues behind her.

Harry nodded. "We have a list of those who take the vow today. Those who don't wish to swear may leave." Of course no one would consider that after the reactions they'd already seen. They all waited impatiently for their own turn to see it. Braithwaite quickly took the oath and returned to her seat.

"Rita Skeeter?" No one stepped forward. "Rita Skeeter? I was certain she would be here. Alas, she's going to miss out on the story of the century. Andy Smudgley?"

The rest of the reporters were duly sworn in and Hermione ticked each one off on her parchment. Only Rita's name remained unchecked. Harry transfigured several small chunks of debris into fancy letter H's, and passed one out to each reporter. 

"Let's play a game. The rules are simple. Each of you has a token. A question costs you one token. If I like the question, you'll get it back."

Braithwaite laughed and held up her letter. When Harry pointed to her, she tossed the token at him. "Mr. Potter, could you tell us in your own words what happened here today?"

Smiling, Harry tossed the initial back to her. She grinned and arranged her autoquill to catch every word. He summarized the battle briefly, skipped the aftermath, stressed that the war was completely over this time, expressed his hopes that the aftermath would be resolve soon, and agreed to send owls to the reporters present when more information could be released.

A reporter Harry didn't recognize went next and tried to dig into information on the off-limits list. "Mr. Potter, can you tell us who died here today?"

Harry pocketed the letter. That one didn't need another chance. "The headmistress will submit a list of casualties to the ministry once the healers are no longer overworked with critical injuries."

"The headmistress? What happened to Headmaster Snape?"

Harry cursed himself silently. He hadn't meant to give that away. "He was injured badly, but has recovered. The wards shifted to the deputy headmistress during the crisis. As for the news, you may report that the deputy headmistress has temporarily taken control of the school. His situation, along with many of the other injured, may not be mentioned." Harry stressed that strongly. "Once things settle, I'm sure they will get with the board to work it all out."

The interview continued, covering various topics from specific details about Voldemort's fall (his AK bounced just like when I was a baby, some people never learn), personal questions about his love life (nonexistent, been a bit busy lately), and many questions about Hogwarts that he couldn't answer and didn't want to disturb the headmistress with at the moment. A quick glance around the Great Hall showed that she'd wisely made herself scarce to avoid becoming a target. Harry offered to make a list and send answers to them later, trying his best to avoid revealing anything else.

The elderly Filhous wrapped things up with a look to the future. "Mr. Potter, what are you planning on doing next?"

"Thank you for asking. Now that I am not so busy with the war, I will be looking into sorting out the rest of my life. There's no way I can take my NEWTs this year. I will be getting solicitors to help with my financials, reviewing any use of my name or likeness over the past two decades for court claims or back pay. I understand there are books and other things. The Prophet took advantage of my unprotected situation numerous times, as did other journals less often. If anyone writes about that though, could you make it sound better? I know I don't know the right words for legal things. I could have my solicitors send out a statement." And review every article, but he needn't say that outright for the reporters to get the hint to behave themselves.

There were a lot of speculative nods among the reporters. They got the message.

"One last thing, ladies and gentlemen. By the terms of your vow, no photographs taken inside the castle may be shared or published at this time, nor the names of anyone you've seen indoors. You may photograph the damage outside. I'll walk you out so I'm not included in that indoors restriction." That should take care of any pictures of Tom taken before he got the former dark lord out of sight. 

The reporters grumbled, but when Filhous agreed in a quavery voice, the others accepted the restriction as well, more or less graciously. Smudgley, though, is the one that got them motivated to head out.

"Will you show us where it all ended? Can we get your picture?"

"If you must." Harry didn't need this delay but couldn't afford to allow the reporters to get out of hand. After an hour of making nice and taking pictures, growing more and more irritated the entire time, he finally got them beyond the wards so they could apparate out.


	8. Big Decision

When Harry returned to the Great Hall, he found Hermione speaking with the Malfoys just inside the entrance. Hermione fell quiet much too quickly when she saw him, though Narcissa tried to cover her gaffe by filling the abrupt silence with a comment about the upcoming rebuilding.

"They're finally gone," he said quietly as he approached. "Anything I should know about?"

"I know you're going back to talking to your returned," Hermione said, "but there's also questions about the survivors."

Harry nodded. "I've had time to think about it, and you're right. The ministry will get stupid if given half a chance. I don't intend them that chance." Was it just his imagination, or did all three Malfoys seem relieved? Slytherins were so hard to read sometimes.

"The ministry won't like whatever you've got in mind."

"Probably not. I'm not sure if it's even possible, but it's worth trying. Lucius, I need to meet with everyone who will be affected by the auror cleanup, those who paid or took bribes, passed along information or covered up evidence, joined raids, whether official or not. Aberford has allowed me the use of his floo."

"Malfoy Manor hosted the assembly and will fit everyone. The wards allow entry only for meetings. I will send word to expect a summons and to side-along those others whose presence is required."

"I will be keyed into the wards for apparation at will, in or out of an assembly."

"Of course." Lucius cut his reply curtly as though he wanted to say something further but couldn't.

Harry nodded, then pondered, then looked over at Tom, who was still sitting on the floor on the far side of the chair. Only his hair and hands were visible as he bent over his parchment, writing memories. Harry focused within himself at a magical sensation he came to realize was a cluster of bonds, threads linked to his core. Somehow, he knew which thread was whose. One felt different from the others, thicker, more like twine than threads or wisps. He gave that one a quick tug. When he opened his eyes, Tom peered around the chair uncertainly, already getting to his feet, parchment and writing materials gathered in his hands.

Tom approached quickly but cautiously, not quite meeting Harry's eyes but definitely assessing him as though trying to figure out if coming over was the right thing to do or not. Still uncertain, he dropped to his knees next to Harry and resumed his writing, scowling at the wet ink that got smudged in the move.

"I brought you over to test if the Marks are still as they were."

When Tom looked up, he saw Harry holding his yew and phoenix wand. He couldn't help but reach for it. Even without access to his own magic, just feeling his wand in his hand soothed his core. Lucius unbuttoned his wrist and extended his arm. Tom looked over at the tables full of the formerly dead, noticing for the first time that the former headmaster was seated with the defenders rather than the attackers. He raised his wand towards the proffered Mark.

"No, not Snape. Leave him be. You killed him for no good reason."

"I needed to use the elder wand, master."

"And he never had mastery of it."

"I didn't know that. The chance was too"

"Silence. If you wanted a wand that could hurt me, you should have bought a brand new one that chose you and had no history at all. Or better yet, used a knife." He looked at the tables. "Malfoy Junior, Goyle Senior and Lady Lestrange." Perhaps that final choice was petty, but Harry was too irritated to care.

The brief pulse of magic that flickered into Tom's core shocked him with nostalgic familiarity. The power he had once taken for granted now ebbed and flowed at another's whim. He knew beyond any doubt that the man who controlled his magic could and would control him. There was little he would not do to ensure as much access as possible. He pushed the thought aside to dwell on later, and pressed his magic outward through his wand, reveling in the feel of it.

Draco gritted his teeth and nodded when his Mark briefly burned again. At the Slytherin table, the chosen two stood up until Harry waved for them to stay seated. 

"Just the half at the foot of the table."

Within a moment, that half of the table was standing and looking around. Again, Harry waved for them to remain where they were. This time, he retrieved the wand from Tom, noting the man's pained expression as the wand slipped from his fingers.

"So, the marks still work as intended. Good to know. I wonder if I can. My apologies, Lucius, Draco, this may be uncomfortable." 

Harry tapped his holly wand into Draco's Mark and focused on Lucius. When he looked up again, both Malfoys shook their heads. Harry tried again with the yew wand. Again, the Malfoys shook their heads. After trying again with both wands while pulling magic from Tom's thread, Harry gave up the puzzle for the moment.

"I'm sure there's a solution," he said to Tom. "We simply might not have it by this evening. Since you'll be attending, it does not matter. But it'll be convenient when I have access to the marks. Lucius, Arrange for the assembly at 8pm. Narcissa and Draco can help you."

"It would be better if they stayed here."

Harry bristled. "Do I really need to hold your wife and son hostage to ensure your good behavior?"

"No, but the aurors will prefer that you do."

That made far too much sense. Lucius, reading Harry's comprehension from his expression, headed out.

Kingsley was at Harry's side in moments. "What was that all about?"

"We tested the Mark, and Lucius is running an errand for me. It'll take a few hours, and when he has that ready, I'll be taking the former death eaters and company," he nodded to the Slytherin table, "to a discussion group. It would be best if this went off without interruption. Until then, I'll continue helping the others get settled." He gestured to those seated at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. With most of the muggles processed and away, the Ravenclaw was nearly empty.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

"You mentioned something about reducing trials and paperwork. I'm just taking you up on it."

Kingsley's widened eyes told Harry he would have as much cooperation as he needed. "Tell me whatever you can."

"If it works, I'll tell you everything. If not, there's nothing to tell."


	9. Attention to Detail

"I'd tell you that I hoped your gold flowed like the River Thames, but I don't know how that would go over given our current situation. Please come with me so we can discuss this."

Just over three dozen goblins piled their memory parchments together and then followed Harry to the back. A smattering of Gobbledegook arose as they sorted out who got to sit in which chair, by some comparison or rules that Harry couldn't follow, though oddly enough he understood their discussion. They settled fairly quickly and looked at him expectantly, whispering among themselves.

"I'd like to speak first, then hear out whatever you would like to say. I honestly don't know what to do. I don't think I know enough about goblins. I've never asked, and so everything I've learned has been hearsay. Some people say that goblins have a price for everything. Does that include yourselves? Could your families buy your contracts from me? If so, would you even want that? Would that free you back to your former lives, or would being owned by another goblin be better or worse than being owned by me?" He winced at that last bit, but there wasn't really any other way to say it. He owned people, and he would have to get used to that.

There were suddenly a lot of very silent goblins.

"Maybe I should've had you speak first. I'm more than willing to hear any ideas you may have for all of this."

They stared at him, almost unmoving.

Harry sighed. He wasn't going to get anything out of them. "I'll let you sort this out among yourselves. You don't need to all have the same answer, either. Each of you can choose what's best for you."

They watched him in silence until he turned back to the Hufflepuff table. Gobbledegook arose behind him as he walked away. He chose not to listen in.

\---

Two werewolves, a hag, four vampires, and about a dozen humans of questionable heritage sat together at the Hufflepuff table. They'd died during the two most recent raids on Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, and were clustered by the date of their deaths, as though that were something in common worth noting. Perhaps among the dead it was. After all, Nearly Headless Nick liked to celebrate his deathday. Harry briefly wondered if he might have learned more if he'd gotten to know any ghosts other than his House ghost. He didn't even know Myrtle all that well, but felt he should. She was tied to Riddle, too, even if far too long ago to return.

Most of those who returned from the two attacks knew each other in various ways. Some of them had lived in neighboring tenements. Five humans worked as clerks in various shops. Two of the vampires were from the same clutch, and another was from a different clutch in the same nest. Several people were regulars at a popular bar that had been caught in the crossfire as aurors and phoenixes pressed back against the death eaters. The bar had gone up in flames to prevent the death eaters from using its back door. The bartender seemed to be the one holding that group together. After collective introductions, Harry took each race aside. None of them had any method of altering the bond. All of them began drafting their curricula vitae.

The next group of bystanders proved even easier to process, and as he spoke with them, Harry resettled them at the Hufflepuff table, clearing the Ravenclaw table for another group. He introduced himself to almost two dozen muggleborns and their families, victims of the brutal registration policy. Some of the muggleborns had died with their families on the run, while others died in ministry custody or Azkaban. Many of the families had been targeted at their homes, including young children. Harry immediately made a note to get anyone improperly incarcerated released, with those who wrongly suffered in Azkaban sent over to St Mungos. 

Scattered among the family clusters were others who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some were grabbed by snatchers. Others died in battles too small to be called a proper raid, casualties of a death eater resisting arrest or victims of opportunity too close at hand once an auror was defeated. With this entire section being human, discussions progressed quickly, and everyone soon had parchment for their curricula vitae. 

\---

"Professor, this is awkward."

"It is, but you're doing a fine job. Exceeds expectations for the moment, but we can only see the final grade when all is said and done."

Harry blinked skeptically at him.

"There are a lot of people who aren't bleeding anymore, and no one is now bleeding who wasn't already. That is a better start to this new era of peace than many expected."

Harry felt a little bit better somehow. "I didn't expect it either. I'm not sure what to do with all of it."

"And yet your current plan of talking to everyone seems to be working out well enough to avoid bloodshed. Keep on as you are until a new pattern emerges."

"You were being very helpful until you said that. Why do you have to talk in circles all the time?"

"Not every road can be straight, nor every answer either."

Harry just shook his head. "Do centaurs have a way to break the bond between us?"

"Being bound to you serves me neither better nor worse than rejoining the colony, and is certainly an improvement over being dead."

"That didn't answer my question."

"The rite of release is easy, but I would not ask for such. You would do me a disservice to even try."

"Why would you choose this over your own freedom?"

"Your colony is growing and the stars favor you. I have watched them orbiting for years and recognized their patterns, even if the others refused to see."

Harry slumped. He despised prophecy and only took Divination because it was an easy grade with Professor Trelawney. He regretted it after hearing the seer give him a true prophecy, and even more once Professor Firenze actually made a productive class out of the subject, though he had to admit the centaur was by far the better instructor.

"Tell me about the rite."

"In our deepest meditation, we divest ourselves of everything, so it is no wonder that we can divest ourselves from ourselves, or from each other. That's why there are few bonds among my kind. Centaurs are loyal to the colony and to the stars but not so much to anyone else, and once I was edged out of the colony, even that bond weakened. I follow the stars alone."

"Meditation? I've spent years failing to learn that, for occlumency. And why did the colony kick you out?"

"I was merely pushed aside, not rejected. I am not homeless, just unwelcome. Should I travel, I may still declare my residence. It is the usual way of these matters, that wayward youth seek out a colony that better fits. Both blood and knowledge spread out in this way, and keeps us from growing stale."

"Are you still part of the colony?"

"I am, however weakly bonded. In that, I would be part of both. My bond to the colony is not affected by my bond to you. Either may grow or fade with time and nurturing."

"How will the colony see your death and return?"

"Unprecedented, which is usually anomalous, so unfavorably."

That statement summed up Harry's entire childhood, and he shuddered in sympathy. "I'm not going to tell you that you can't. The choice confuses me, but I can't say it's wrong."

"Then we are agreed, and I am content."

"I'm not sure there even is a right or wrong anymore."

Firenze shrugged as he took parchment and ink for his curriculum vitae and then returned to the Hufflepuff table. Harry had no idea how a centaur would interpret some of the questions, but he figured he would find out when he read it over.


	10. One or Two Fingers

When the time came, Harry decided not to use the polyjuice. He had no need to appear as the dark lord to gain control of the death eaters when Tom simply would not stay out from underfoot. George and Fred tried to stay equally close, a constant reminder that Harry hadn't found a better option for them. While annoying, the three of them at his feet made an impression, as did all of the death eaters and company who knelt in several rows behind him.

The arrivals apparated in quickly, taking their usual places around the circle as their guests clustered behind them. They eyed Harry warily. Only a few of the eldest recognized Tom in his true form and seemed surprised at how much younger he looked than themselves. More wondered at the pair of Weasleys at Harry's feet. Most were far more interested in the several dozen death eaters arrayed behind him, seeing friends or family members they thought were lost. 

Harry stopped anyone from approaching, gesturing for them to stay in the circle. "Explanations will be made once everyone has arrived." He had to say that several times, until his rising irritation finally discouraged further attempts. As word of the dark lord’s defeat had already flashed through the rumor mill, the survivors of his campaign were beginning to realize that Harry was someone to avoid antagonizing.

It did not take much longer. The gathering included an odd mixture of people, with some in Death Eater robes and others attired in school robes. Every seventh year Slytherin was present, along with about half the sixth years and several Ravenclaws from both years as well. Dozens of werewolves stood in several clusters at the back of the hall. Overall, the sheer number of people surprised Harry. He hadn't realized just how vast Voldemort's army really was, and was glad they hadn't all been pulled in for the day's battle. The school would've been massacred.

Harry gestured, and a long mahogany table materialized in the middle of the oval. Everyone in the room fell quiet. 

"First things first, I have the wands which were left on the battlefield. If you see yours, please take it."

Harry pulled a bundle of wands from his robe and scattered them into the air in front of him. The wands spread out along the circle and began moving clockwise around it as though resting on an invisible lazy susan. It was an impressive display of magic. As the wands floated around the circle, various witches and wizards reached out to claim one, their relief often more visible in the tightness of their grips than in their careful expressions. After several minutes, only a few wands were left. Harry summoned them to him and tucked them back into his robe.

"The quick and dirty explanation is that anyone who died in the battle today at Hogwarts has been returned, with their magic bound to me. So have those who died in the war over the past two months. The war itself, what everyone lived and died for, was in fact sibling rivalry, a family feud passed down for generations. Tom Riddle, also called Lord Voldemort, was through his mother the heir of Cadmus Peverell, the middle son. I am the heir of Ignotus, the youngest, as my father and his father were before me."

Shock rippled over many of the assembled, identifying those who were aware that the Hallows were more than children's tales.

"When prophecy declared the birth of a child who would vanquish the dark lord, blood called to blood. Riddle answered without even knowing it, though I'm sure he had reasons he believed to be his own for choosing me. Over the years, we fought again and again. In the end, I acquired all three of the Peverell family heirlooms, emerging victorious over my elder brother."

Those knowledgeable death eaters were further astonished at the announcement of a reigning Master of Death. 

"Death negotiated the terms of a truce by binding Tom Riddle into my service. At my request, those who died in the war recently were also returned. That boon could only go so far back though I would have gone further if I could, since many of the losses before that time were on my side or neutral. They too are bound to me no matter which side they died for.

"The bottom line is this: Unless anyone present wishes to do anything foolish this war is now over. The aurors will soon begin cleaning up the mess, arresting anyone they can link to Riddle's activities. An offhand comment by a ranking auror suggested that the Ministry might bind any death eaters over to me, since that precedent is well and truly set. I don't actually think that notion will get very far. The Ministry isn't smart enough for that.

"So I leave the choice to you. If you place your trust in the Ministry, the aurors and the trials before the Wizengamot, stand as you are. You'll be able to portkey out once that ward is dropped, with only a vow of silence on this day's discussion. If you trust me more than the Ministry, surrender your wand and kneel."

Harry gestured for George to stand up and handed him a parcel. After a few quiet words, George took it to the table and unwrapped the wands for all of the witches and wizards kneeling behind Harry, scattering them along the mahogany length. Just before he returned to his spot at Harry's feet, he pulled his own wand from his sleeve and set it in a clear spot near the middle of the table.

"Lumos." Harry concentrated and every wand lit up except George's. "Nox. That should clarify the consequence of this decision."

For a moment there was only silence, and then Lucius stepped forward and placed three wands on the table. When he returned to the oval, all three Malfoys dropped to their knees, surprising everyone present. Some even failed to keep their expressions neutral, staring at the Malfoys in shock. Many of the heads of families seemed to be thinking very seriously, wondering what the Malfoys knew that they might not. The matter of the Master of Death was, however unbelievable, the only explanation that made any sense at all. Could there possibly be something even worse?

Amid the whispers in various family groups, the next to move was Lord Crabbe, whose son and heir was already in Harry's keeping. Long a vassal family of the Malfoys, no one was surprised that he followed their lead. Some quickly glanced around for the other vassal, Lord Goyle, only to find him among the returned. Instead, his heir placed two wands on the table, kneeling with his mother. After a long moment of indecision, two lords stepped forward at the same time. Lord Parkinson didn't surprise anyone, being a known ally of the Malfoys with their on again off again talks of betrothing their only children. Lord Bulstrode, though, had largely remained neutral amid the death eater politics. Many of the others eyed him carefully as they looked around at each other.

Others approached the table and placed their wands, a trickle at first, but growing into a flood as though a sense of collective resignation permeated the room. By the end of it, Harry was the only one standing, and Draco didn't even bother trying to hide his smirk as he set two fingers in front of him. Ignoring Draco, Harry set about seeing how he could reduce these numbers. There was no way on earth he was willing to bind a measurable percentage of Britain's entire wizarding population to himself. It was simply too much.

"If you have never participated in a raid, I cannot accept your troth. Rise and reclaim your wands."

No one moved except George, who looked up with an almost angry expression. Harry calmed him with a DA sign and turned to the Malfoys.

"Lucius? Explanation?"

"Raids bound the great houses to him, especially for those not marked. Participation was enforced by threats to family, and ensured blackmail material on anyone if ever needed."

That would explain the prevalence of raids even when the targets seemed pointless. Green eyes lit up in understanding as another detail fell into place. "That's why my godfather ran away." Green eyes dimmed again in memory and loss.

"One reason of many. His brother's disappearance discouraged others from taking that option."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment before setting his feelings aside. Knowing the true reason why Regulus died, it hurt that his death was so falsely portrayed. "Regulus died of his own actions, not his brother's. He sought to destroy a dark artifact. I followed in his footsteps and finished his work."

Movement at his feet got Harry's attention and he looked down to see the question on Tom's face.

"The locket was not as well hidden or protected as you hoped it would be. Two different efforts found the site. The others were only found once."

Tom shivered and looked down again.

Harry turned to the assembly. "Still, there are too many, and I've spilled my share of blood under duress. If you only joined when coerced and did not seek out these activities for your own benefit, please retrieve your wands and step out of the circle."

To his relief, more than half of those present were able to reclaim their wands under these terms, including many of the youngest. Most of the sixth years and several seventh years stepped away. A disproportionate number of the exempted were female, but Harry recalled from too many visions through Voldemort's eyes that the ladies were often kept to the side unless, like Bellatrix and Alecto, they bullied their way into the inner circle.

With no clear way to further reduce numbers, Harry steeled himself for the unpleasant necessity.

"Death."

The entity appeared promptly, and stood directly in front of Harry, separated only by the trio kneeling at his feet. Attendees closest by felt as though their bones liquified. If they weren't already kneeling, they would be. Some of those who had stepped back from the circle fell to their knees as well. Since the Malfoys and those clustered behind Harry did not seem surprised by Death's attendance, the rest of the gathering guessed at the knowledge guiding Lucius' actions, as relieved that they'd chosen to follow suit as they were frightened of the apparition and the possibilities it represented.

"You called for me, Master?"

The raspy whisper echoed throughout the silent hall, and no one had any further questions.

"I did. These people in this circle wish to be bound to me in the same way as those behind me who you bound to me earlier, but not in the binding you created for Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Death glanced at Tom, who cringed at Harry's feet. "The bond between the pair of you cannot be duplicated. What will you do in return?"

"What offer would you consider?"

"Burn my cloak."

His father's cloak was a higher cost than Harry was prepared to pay for anything. "No," he said, pausing to think for a moment. "But I will break your wand. It was never loyal to the family anyways. There may be others who are not here at this time. They have the choice to be included in this whenever they turn up." For the price of damaging a Hallow, he was not going to take half measures. "And if the ones who stepped back at my request see a need to return, that choice is theirs, too."

Death nodded and looked around the gathering, finally settling its gaze on George. "This one is not like the others."

"He volunteered to join his brother in hopes of restoring their twin bond once they're both bound to me. Can you assure him of this?"

Death nodded. "I will grant this bond in trade for another bond of my choosing."

Harry shook his head. "I don't want anyone else bound to me despite my request today. I have too many already, but thank you."

"No, this one will be unbound from you."

"That is possible? I could unbind Fred and the other defenders instead." Harry lit up with excitement. This was possibly the first thing Death had told him that wasn't utterly awful.

"No, it is not. The only way they could return was to bind them to myself or to you for the remainder of their spans, and I could not keep so many."

Instinctively, Harry looked down at Tom, whose rigid posture radiated terror. "But you'd wish them all on me."

"It was your choice, Master."

Harry didn't quite agree with that but didn't say anything because all of these additionals were by mutual choice however reluctant.

"Who?"

"One of the bystanders, an old man from the continent who just wants to go home."

Tom settled as the description excluded him.

"Who? What's in it for you?"

Death did not answer. Harry waited for several long minutes before he began fidgeting. He knew this was crucial but could not see any way to go around it, and he didn't want to disappoint George and Fred. Their bond meant so much to them, surely it meant more than the bond of a stranger? Harry felt uncertain about Death's silence. The identity of this stranger mattered, but Harry knew Death would not tell.

Harry waited. Death waited. No one could out-patience Death, apparently not even Death's Master. Harry spoke first.

"So mote it be."

Death bowed. "So mote it be." Death began pointing to each person kneeling around the oval, starting with George who promptly clutched Fred, both crying out in relief. Harry pulled the Elder Wand from within his robe, gripped each end in his fists and snapped it into two pieces. A great burst of magic pulsed outward. Death shivered and then continued with its task around the circle.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review. I appreciate grammar and typo notes, and will make corrections as I can. Thank you.


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